The Only Place That I Call Home
by Rachel Greenwood
Summary: It's 1923, and Jack and Rose have settled down with their two children and are living out the fairy tale ending when a difficult pregnancy brings Ruth to live with them, along with her criticisms and disapproval. It's more of a look at their life and marriage than a cliffhanger filled story.
1. Chapter 1

_Minneapolis_

 _November 1923_

Jack quickly closed the door behind him, shutting out the frigid air. He stomped the snow from his boots. The house was delightfully warm, even in the front hall, which didn't get much heat. He smelled tea and soup. His stomach growled. As he moved toward the kitchen, he heard voices, first the children's, and then Rose's. He paused in the doorway, watching them. The twins were five and as identical as a brother and sister could be. They had his bright blue eyes and her curls, which were red tinged with gold. Dominoes littered the table. Rose moved quickly, despite her swollen belly, refilling tea cups and buttering toast. Jack wanted to preserve the scene forever. Rose caught sight of him. "Jack," she said brightly. She kissed him, shivering at his touch. "You're freezing. Het in here and get warm," she said. She pulled him toward an empty chair. "I'll get you some dinner."

"You're not supposed to be up," he reminded her. He grinned at the twins. "Is she?" he added, knowing he could get them on his side. They shook their heads in unison.

"No," Ben said.

"We asked her to," Emily said guiltily.

Rose placed a steaming bowl before Jack. "I didn't take much persuading," she said. "I would've gotten up on my own even if they hadn't asked."

"You shouldn't do that," Jack said, reaching for her. Carefully, he pulled her down so she was perched on his leg. "You're supposed to be—"

"Resting, I know," she said. "But sometimes that makes me feel worse." He laid a hand on her belly. "Eat," she added. "We'll talk about this later."

"Where's your mother?" he asked.

"She went out. She should be back soon." Rose turned to the children. "Come on, it's almost time for your baths."

"I'll do it," Jack offered. "Go lie down for a while."

"Jack, I can—"

"I know, but do it for me? I'll clean up in here and get the kids clean too. We'll come sit with you when we're finished, alright?"

She sighed. "Alright."

…

Jack was helping Emily dry her hair when she said, "We should leave Mama alone, shouldn't we?"

"No," he replied. "No, no-one's tellin you to do that. But you gotta try and remember she can't do a lot right now. She thinks she can," he added, in a confidential tone. "And maybe she's right, but we don't want her to hurt herself, do we?"

Emily shook her head. "No."

"I know it's not easy," Jack said. "But you you're making it easier."

"How?"

"By being such a good girl," he said. He pulled her into a hug. "You're wonderful Emily-Moon."

"You say that all the time."

"And I mean it," he said, tickling her. Laughing, she tried to squirm away. He gave her one last squeeze before letting go. "Go sit with your mother. Me and Ben'll be there in a minute."

…

The living room was bright and warm. Outside the wind howled and snow fell steadily. Rose reclined on the sofa, winding a ball of yarn. Ben and Emily settled on the rug, a checkerboard between them. Jack sat against the sofa, his head leaning on Rose's leg. His sketchbook was propped on his knees, but he wasn't drawing. He twirled the pencil through his fingers and observed the scene. The room was small but clean and carefully arranged. Photos lined the mantel, and a few of his drawings hung in frames on the walls. They didn't have a wedding photo, so he'd drawn the scene from memory, Rose in her princess gown—as he thought of it—with a crown of purple flowers and a mosquito net for a veil, he with his threadbare suit and fresh haircut. He'd worn a small flower crown of his own, at Rose's insistence. They still had them, pressed between the pages of a book. Sighing contentedly, he reached up and laid a hand on her knee. She ruffled his hair.

Rose glanced at the clock. "It's nearly seven," she said, a hint of worry in her voice.

"I'm sure she's alright," Jack said. "Want me to go check?"

"Would you? She underestimates the weather here."

Jack pulled on his coat and wound a thick scarf around his neck before stepping outside. The wind cut through him like a newly sharpened razor. Ruth had more than underestimated the weather if she went out voluntarily on such a day. She was heading up the sidewalk, carrying several bags. He hurried toward her. "Here, gimme a few," he offered.

"Why'd you go out in this?" he asked, once they were inside.

"Someone had to make sure you have enough food," was her reply.

Jack swallowed his words. They had plenty of everything, but there was no point in arguing with her. He was never right, not as far as she was concerned, and arguing only increased the tension between them. And that upset Rose and the children. It bothered Ben and Emily more because they didn't understand how anyone could ever dislike their father. They were still young enough to have no concept of wealth, and they didn't know how low their barely middle-class existence was considered, by Ruth and by others. They never saw people with more money. When she lamented about the advantages they should have had, they wondered what she meant. They were always warm and fed. They had each other, and their parents were always there with a story, a game, or a skill to teach. There was never yelling; no-one was ever hit. The twins' fears came only from their imaginations. Instinctively, they sensed the goodness of their small world.

"Well, with this weather I guess we can't be too careful," was all he said.

The energy in the room changed when Ruth entered it. The twins became more subdued, and Rose ceased the little activity she'd been engaged in. Jack took back his spot on the floor. Ruth sat in the chair by the fire, shooting him disapproving looks. He ignored them and focused his attention on the twins, who were combining the checkers and chess sets in an attempt to create a whole new game. The rules weren't clear, but they were happy with it. 

Rose's hand rested on his shoulder, and from time to time he laid his own over it, almost to remind himself she was indeed still there. She was so quiet around her mother. He didn't like it. He didn't want them arguing, but he didn't want Rose holding in her feelings or stifling herself. After all, it was their house. They could do and say what they pleased. They were married; they had children; their lives were stable. Ruth had no reason to disapprove of them anymore. And yet, she did. Not for the first time, Jack wished she hadn't offered to come and help. She was the best choice. Neither of them had any other close relatives, but he wondered if they wouldn't have managed better on their own.

Jack gave Rose's hand a squeeze as the memory played before his eyes. Rose's face had been so pale, a deathly white that went beyond her usual fairness. Her voice shook, and when he touched her she was cold. There had been so much blood; too much, he'd thought. She couldn't survive such a loss. But she had, and somehow, so had the baby. They'd thought things would be easier this time. After the twins, why wouldn't it be? But they were wrong.

It was the thought of losing her that scared him the most. They already had two children, and they could probably have others, but they wouldn't have another her. What would the three of them do without her? He couldn't take care of the twins on his own. It took both of them to make things work. And how could he live without Rose, his best friend? She knew how he drank his tea and how to make him laugh, even when he didn't think he could. She held him and whispered stories when he couldn't sleep. Rose, who did a thousand small things every day he could no longer remember living without. Rose was his home, even when he didn't want one. When they moved from one place to another every few weeks, searching for something new, something better, something he wouldn't lose, she'd been his home, though he hadn't admitted it. Part of his wandering came from a desire to see and experience all he could; he never lied when he said that. But part of it also came from fear. If he stayed in one place too long, got too close to people, he would lost them, and he couldn't face more grief. He'd never had that fear with Rose. Until now. Their bond was so strong being without her hadn't seemed possible until he found himself facing the very real prospect of her death. He wanted this child but not if it cost her.

Rose leaned down and kissed his hair, as if sensing his thoughts. She ignored Ruth's chastising gaze.

…..

There were no comfortable positions for Rose anymore. She couldn't sleep on her side. Sleeping on her stomach was obviously out of the question. That left only her back, when she never slept on normally, and which was sore from the weight of her belly. Even extra pillows didn't help. Jack rubbed her aching muscles, from her back to her ankles, but she only felt relief when he did so. He slept on his side, facing her, his head on her shoulder and his arm around her as best he could. She held him, grateful for his closeness. She felt safer with him pressed against her. It was absurd, but it gave her the feeling that he could stop anything bad from happening.

And didn't he, most of the time? Even if it was just in small ways? He'd been able to stop the twins' crying when all her efforts failed, and she was ready to give up and cry herself. He did the dishes while she slept and finished the laundry. He always came home after work, which she knew shouldn't be an accomplishment, but after nearly twelve years together and two children, it was. He spent all of his free time with the three of them. He still brought her flowers, usually ones he'd picked, but she liked those best.

Rose laid her cheek against his hair and breathed in its scent. Unless he had just washed it, the faint smell of ink always clung to it now, the result of his job at the newspaper. It wasn't printed there, and yet the whole office smelled of it. She didn't know how he could stand it, day after day. But it was a good job. It wasn't idea, but at least he got to draw every day, and he added to their small income by doing illustrations for magazines. Sometimes she worried, though.

They had lived in the same place for over five years, and in the same house for three. It was more rootedness than they had planned, but with to babies at once, how could they keep moving? Traveling with one would have been difficult enough, but two would have been impossible. Briefly, she had been afraid he might leave after the twins were born. It might all be too much for him. It felt like too much for her sometimes, and she didn't have his restless spirit. But he hadn't left, and now she wondered how she could ever have doubted he would stay.

…..

The office was filled with yelling, the ringing of telephones, the clacking of typewriter keys, and the mechanical clicking of the teletype machine. Somewhere a radio played. Women's heels clicked briskly on the wooden floors. Jack loved the music of the office. He loved the constant activity. No matter what time of day or night, there was always something happening, always some story breaking, some crisis being averted or created. He sat as his desk and drew—cartoons, ads, caricatures, whatever was asked for, and mostly he stayed out of the ocean flowing around him, but he liked being in it all the same. It was familiar yet different each day. It reminded him of his years on the road, and sometimes he could forget where he was and imagine he was still traveling.

The horizon called to him still, but he ignored it. Those days were over. He and Rose had wandered for five years, and when they settled down he had almost been relieved. It was nice waking up in the same bed every morning and always having his things unpacked, always knowing how to get anywhere he needed to go, seeing familiar faces. And even with the children, they had more money now. They were able to save. If something happened to him, Rose wouldn't be stranded, without a home.

"Don't you get tired of just sitting here all day?" George asked, dropping into an empty chair near Jack's desk.

"I'm not just sitting," Jack pointed out. "I'm drawing."

"I don't see much difference." George leaned over and peered at the drawing. It was an ad for perfume. "Do they give you models for these?" he asked.

"No. I guess they might if I asked," Jack replied.

"You don't ask? Why not?"

"Don't need one." Jack kept his eyes on the shading he was doing. "There's plenty of girls here if I need a new face."

"True. But we see them every day," George said. "And you draw the same woman over and over."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. Every time. Going to give this one red hair too?" George said with a chuckle. "Or just the curls?" When Jack didn't respond he added, "I'm only joking. You know I don't mean anything by it, not really. I don't care if you draw your wife incessantly. It's just funny."

"Why's it funny?"

The question startled George. "Well, because you're _married_ to her. You've been married, what, ten years?"

"Almost twelve."

"Exactly. And you act like the honeymoon was yesterday," George said. "It's just hard to believe you never think about taking one of these lovely stenographers buzzing around the office to lunch." There was a suggestive note in his tone.

"Believe it," Jack said, not unpleasantly. "I'm happy just like this."

"You know, I really think you are." George regarded him with a blend of curiosity and amusement. "Better hope it lasts," he added. "You've got two kids already, don't you?"

"Nearly three." Jack smiled as he said it.

"You'll be looking at the stenographers soon," George predicted.

…

The twins were careful not to make noise during Rose's afternoon nap, and they resented Ruth's constant reminders to be quiet. They sat in the kitchen, practicing their writing. Rose had begun teaching them a few months earlier, and she did her best to keep it up now, though between Ruth and Jack she got little time to do it. Jack hadn't argued with her decision to teach them at home for a while, agreeing with her reasoning that the weather alone made sending them to school difficult. There were days when it was just too cold to leave the house, and he wished he didn't have to, but at least Rose and the children were safely warm. And at least Jack didn't think contact with the children would exhaust her beyond all recovery. Ruth never said so explicitly, but Rose knew that's what she thought. She sensed Ben and Emily did too, and she tried to make them see that it wasn't so.

Ben wrote slowly, carefully putting each letter in order before moving on to words. Emily went through the alphabet quickly, filling the page with every word she knew in large, flourishing script that wasn't quite cursive but wasn't quite printing either. She liked the way it looked, but mostly, she just wanted to be finished. She wanted the snow to stop and the sun to come out long enough for them to go out and play. She wanted her grandmothers to leave and for their lives to go back to the way they were before. She took Ruth's words more to heart than Ben, who had inherited Jack's ability to shrug things off. They bothered him, but he tried not to think about it. If, as he kept reminding Emily, they just did as she said, she'd leave them alone. She would leave eventually, and their mother would be back. And there would be a baby. This interested them more than anything else, and they spent hours discussing it when they were supposed to be asleep.

Emily flipped her paper over and began filling the other side, writing her name over and over: Emily Maris Dawson. Ruth frowned when she saw it but remained silent. Both twins felt the unspoken words. She hated anything that reminded her of their father, another topic they often discussed in the privacy of their room.

"You should write more neatly," Ruth said. "Look at the way your brother writes."

"But I don't wanna write like him," Emily replied.

"Want," Ruth said, emphasizing each letter. "You don't want to, but you should. It's the correct way."

"But I don't wanna," Emily argued, not caring if she made Ruth angry.

"That's not how Emmy writes," Ben said, trying to make peace.

Ruth stared at her for a long moment. Their eyes locked, and it was like she was looking at Rose. The expression was the same, the defiance was the same. But it wasn't Rose. Rose was a grown woman now, and these were her children, and all at once Ruth felt sad. Where had the time gone? Seven years had passed between _Titanic_ and the next time she saw Rose. The twins had been born by then, and Rose wasn't the girl she remembered anymore. And Jack wasn't just some shiftless boy vying for her attention. He was her husband, and the father of the babies Rose held so proudly. And the one she was carrying now. It was a thought Ruth couldn't stand. They were beautiful children, and no doubt the new one would be as well, but they shouldn't have been his. Rose was meant for better things, and so were they. Jack's attentiveness only made her dislike him more. It was easy to always be there when time was all you had to offer. She didn't suspect him of being unfaithful. No, Jack loved Rose, and he loved the children. His affection was genuine, and that was the problem. Rose would never see her mistake because those blue eyes of his always blinded her.

…..

Rose hummed as she straightened up the living room. She held a finger to her lips as the twins came in. She gestured for them to come over as she sat down. They climbed onto the couch next to her and presented their papers. "Well, what's this?" she asked, pretending not to know. She gasped. "You're getting better." Ben and Emily exchanged glances and smiled.

"Very neat," Rose said to Ben. "It's almost like type."

"And that's good?" he asked.

"Yes." Rose turned to Emily. "And yours is lovely."

"I want them to look like they'll move," Emily said.

Rose laughed warmly. "Yes, I can see that. Darling, why don't you try writing a little more slowly next time, alright?"

"Alright," Emily said reluctantly.

"If you want to draw, you can, but maybe don't combine them." Rose smoothed Ben's curls. "And you don't have to worry so much about neatness. It's alright if everything isn't perfect."

"But I want it to be," he said.

"I know," Rose said gently. "But that's not always possible, and you're too young to be worrying about it."

Emily's solemn eyes always sparkled or flashed, but Ben's were solemn most of the time. Rose didn't know why. He was happy, and yet, there was a seriousness about him, as if he were older than his five years. Emily understood him better than anyone. They had a language all their own, as so many twins do. Rose was glad they had each other, and she was happy there would be another sibling. Being an only child was lonely. She remembered that all too well, as did Jack, though he at last had had affectionate parents.

"Grandmother says it's possible," he said.

Rose frowned slightly. "Don't believe everything your grandmother says. She means well, and you should respect her, but some of her ideas are—" Rose searched for the right word.

"Stupid," Emily offered.

"Old-fashioned," Rose said diplomatically. "Limited." She agreed with her daughter, but she knew better than to let her know that. Ruth and Emily clashed enough without help.

"Is that why she doesn't like Dad?" Ben asked.

Rose was taken aback by the question. "Did she say that to you?" She looked from Ben to Emily. "Tell me. Did she?"

They felt their mother's rising anger. "No," Emily said. "Not really."

"What exactly did she say?" Rose kept her tone even.

Ben looked at the rug and wished he hadn't said anything. "She says you shouldn'tve married him," Emily said. "He's not good enough."

Anger set Rose's heart beating faster. "Did she say anything else?"

The twins looked at one another. "No," they said in unison.

Rose could tell they were lying, but she let the matter drop. "Go in your room and play for a while," she said.

…..

Rose found her mother in her room, dusting the already spotless furniture. Rose's mouth was a thin line; she planted her feet firmly. "Mother, I need to speak with you," she said.

"Of course. What's wrong?" Ruth took in her sever expression. "You shouldn't be up. Did the children—"

"The children are what I need to speak to you about."

"I told them not to bother you—"

"They don't bother me," Rose said.

"In your condition—"

"I know what I can handle, and they are not too much for me." Rose took a deep breath. Getting upset wouldn't help anything, and secretly, she knew she couldn't handle it. "I don't want you sharing your opinions with them anymore."

"Rose, what do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. If you can't respect Jack, my husband and their father, at all, then you shouldn't be here. We appreciate you coming to help, but I won't have you saying such things to them. Or to me, or to him. If you want to be part of my life and theirs, you have to accept he's a part of things too."

"Rose—"

"I don't want to discuss it anymore," Rose said, turning to go.

 **AN: This will probably be a short story with just a few chapters. I'm still working on my other stories, and I'm working on at least one non-Titanic story, which will probably be posted after the holidays, along with a slew of new chapters.**


	2. Chapter 2

The mood in the house was tense for the next few days. Jack felt it when he came home that night, but it wasn't until he was putting the twins to bed that he found out what was causing it. They didn't know all the details, of course, but they knew enough to put a fairly clear picture in his mind. Rose wouldn't talk about it, though, and he knew better than to ask Ruth. She didn't even like when he asked for the time.

Ruth was always the first one up, and most mornings he bumped into her in the kitchen. They rarely spoke. She cast cold looks in his directions, and he tried to ignore them. But that morning, as she watched him pour Rose's tea, he sensed what she wanted to say. He kept his back to her, pretending not to notice.

Rose was awake when he came in. She was sitting up, pillows around her. He sat on the edge of the bed and offered her the steaming mug. "Thank you," she said. She sipped slowly, grateful for the warmth it gave off. Their bedroom wasn't cold, but it wasn't as warm as the other rooms. None of the upstairs rooms were as warm as those downstairs.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm alright." She shrugged and added, with a smile, "About the same as always."

"You need anything?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm fine."

"I'll bring you some breakfast before I go," he said.

"I can go down—"

"Let me bring you something, Rose."

…..

Rose tried to spend as much of the day in bed as possible, but by mid-morning she couldn't stand it anymore. Lying, alone, with nothing to do was torture for her. She wished Jack could stay with her if the twins weren't allowed to come up. Slowly, she climbed out of bed and dressed. It still surprised her how much being pregnant affected her movements. No longer could she spring from her chair or the bed; she couldn't run down the stairs or sweep the twins off the floor and carry them. She couldn't hold Jack, not the way she usually did. Being so limited was frustrating, and she felt slightly guilty about how much she looked forward to it being over.

The twins were talking quietly when she came down. They were at the kitchen table, papers spread in front of them, carefully practicing their writing. There was no sign of Ruth. Rose went in, placing a kiss on each of their heads. Rose was sitting between them when Ruth came back. She frowned deeply but said nothing.

…..

"You need to speak to Rose." Ruth stood stiffly, her hands folded in front of her. Jack stared at her, still unwinding his scarf.

"What?" he said.

"You need to speak to her about what she's doing," she said. "She isn't staying in bed, and she won't listen to me. As always, she believes she knows best."

Jack chose his words carefully. "Maybe she does. It's her body, after all. I'm sure she knows what's going on inside it."

"Oh. Well, I'll go then," Ruth said sharply. "Let her take over things again since it's perfectly fine for her to be up and about. I suppose I didn't even need to come at all. You didn't need to have the doctor come see her. Rose knows best."

"That's not—I didn't meant it like that," he said, annoyed with her and himself.

"Maybe you should think more before you speak then," she replied.

Jack swallowed the first reply that came. "What's she been doing?"

…..

Rose was ensconced on the couch with the twins on the floor next to her. They each held a book and were taking turns reading aloud to her. Rose tried to get up when she saw Jack, but he motioned for her to stay where she was. The twins hurried to him for their usual hug, and he held them for a long moment. He watched Rose, checking for signs of ill-healthy, but she seemed as cheerful and lively as ever. There were small, dark circles under her eyes, though, and he worried Ruth might be right. Even the little she was doing might be too much.

"Hello," Rose said brightly, leaning up for his kiss. "You're cold."

"Yeah, it's gettin bad out there," he replied. Jack took a seat next to the couch, on the floor. She pulled the blanket from her feet and put it around his shoulders. "I'm fine," he said, but he left it on.

"Have you eaten?"

"I will in a minute. Not that hungry yet," he answered.

"I can—" she began.

"You can rest here. I'll manage," he said. He turned to the twins. "These two can help me, right?"

Ben nodded. Emily put her book aside, eager for a new project. "We had soup _again_ ," she said, making clear her disapproval.

"Well, soup's good in weather like this," Jack said. "Keeps you warm."

"I don't like Grandmother's soup," Emily said. "I like when you and Mama make it." Ben agreed but kept quiet.

Jack and Rose exchanged glances. They agreed too, but they couldn't let the children know. Finding the right tone for dealing with Ruth and the twins was difficult, and they weren't always successful, or so Rose thought. She worried about the type of relationship Ruth was establishing with the twins. They needed to know one another, but the three of them actually getting along appeared unlikely. Ruth had made her disapproval of their lives clear too often. Secretly, Rose feared her mother would stay even after the baby was born, maybe forever. But no, she told herself, Jack wouldn't let that happen. Or would he? He was so good-natured; she knew how hard he tried not to make things worse with Ruth, but she didn't seem to care.

"I'll do the cooking tomorrow," Jack said. "We should give her the weekend off anyway."

…

"I can walk, Jack," Rose said.

"I know, but—"

She held to the railing. "It may take me a few minutes, but I will make it up the stairs," she said. Jack walked behind her, ready to catch her if she slipped. Her refusal to accept his help frustrated him, and yet he admired her for it. He saw how difficult it was for her, but the fire in her eyes hadn't dimmed.

Jack helped her into bed. There was a chill in their room. He busied himself with the heat, even stacking wood for a fire if necessary. Rose watched him, exhausted by his boundless energy. Jack never slowed down; he kept going no matter what. She couldn't imagine him wanting to sleep for three days, the way she found herself wanting to lately. No, instead, he was always making sure they were all taken care of. Not for the first time Rose reminded herself how lucky she was to have him. She wished her mother could see it too.

"Should get warm in here soon," he said, getting into bed next to her. He put an arm around her. One hand rested on her belly, above hers.

Rose allowed herself a yawn. "I shouldn't be tired. I haven't done anything all day."

"You went downstairs."

"That hardly counts as doing something. And I couldn't stay up here, alone, all day. Mother tuts when the twins come and see me in bed," she said. "I try to avoid that sound."

"You sure that's all you do?"

Rose gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"You're not doing more?" he asked.

"No. I'm limiting my activity," she said mockingly. "As much as I hate it."

"I know how you feel, but it's not gonna last forever, and it's for the best. For both of you." He gave her a gently squeeze. "You take care of yourself and the baby, and I'll take care of everything else, remember?" He kissed her cheek. She turned her head and caught his lips. Jack kissed her softly, trying not to enjoy it too much. He couldn't want her; it would just leave him frustrated. But they had always loved winter; the long, cold nights burrowing under blankets and quilts, finding warmth in each other.

"Jack," she whispered, putting a hand on his back. She kissed his neck, running her other hand down his chest.

"Rose." Her teeth grazed his skin, and he felt himself being swept away. Her hand kept moving lower. He didn't want her to stop. But it had to stop. "Rose, don't," he said, struggling to breathe normally.

"Why?"

"Because we can't," he said. "And right now, that's all I want."

"I miss you." Her eyes were heavy with desire.

Jack let himself be drawn into another kiss. It felt so good just to lie there kissing her. It couldn't go any further, but at least they still had that much.

…..

Rose pulled the blankets even tighter around herself and tried to snuggle closer to Jack. She put her head under the blankets, still mostly asleep but awake enough to recoil from the cold. Her movements woke him. The light that shone in was grey, and the air was bitterly cold, almost as if they were outside. "You alright?" he asked.

Rose nodded, fully awake now. "What's happened?"

"I don't know. I'll check the radiator."

It was like ice when he touched it. Clearly, it hadn't been on for a few hours, though he couldn't tell why. Nothing he tried made it work. His hands were beginning to numb when he gave up and lit a fire. Fortunately, there was more wood on the screened in porch in the back. He'd gotten it for a day like this. He took another blanket out of the closet and spread it across the bed. "I'll gonna check on the twins," he said, putting on a sweater.

"The whole house is probably like this," she said.

"Yeah, most likely," he replied. "I'll bring them in here with you."

The rest of the house was indeed just as cold. The twins' room had a fireplace, but lighting one in there could be dangerous. He couldn't stay home and tend to it. Rose couldn't, and neither could they. Ruth, he was sure, wouldn't. He scooped up a sleeping child in each arm, keeping them wrapped in their quilts. There was enough space for one on either side of Rose. They snuggled against her like kittens, neither waking up. Slowly, the room began getting warmer.

Jack knocked on Ruth's door, trying not to feel awkward as he did so. It opened immediately. She was wrapped in a blanket and wore a thick robe. She eyed him scornfully. "Yes?" she said.

"I came to light the fire for you," he said. When she didn't respond he added, "Or you could get in bed with Rose and the kids. It's warm in there."

For a moment she looked as if she might spit on him. Jack wondered how she could still carry so much hatred for him, but he didn't let himself dwell on it. There were more important things to think about. "That would be fine," she said, stepping back to let him in. "I don't suppose you know why there's no heat?"

"The electricity's out," he replied. "Should be back up soon, but until then there's plenty of wood. I'll bring some up, but you might hafta help Rose keep the fire going in out room. I don't want her doing all of that."

"Of course not. She does too much already."

"Well, I'll be home early," he said. "I'll see what I can find out about the electricity."

….

It was still snowing when he left, and attempts to clear the streets were mostly at a stand-still, as if those in authority were waiting to see how bad things would get before continuing. Jack moved through the frozen streets quickly, comforted by the familiar sight of a snow-covered world. He could almost be back in Wisconsin; if he tried, for just a moment, he could imagine he never left. It wasn't something he thought about often, though whenever he did, Rose was always there. Jack believed they would have met no matter what. Somehow, they would have met; something would have brought them together. If he hadn't left and found his way to her, she would have found her way to him.

The office was busy in spite of the weather, and it took Jack no time to find out at least half the city's power was out. More storms were predicted, so even if it was fixed it could still go out again. Jack didn't bother settling in. Instead, he gathered his projects to take home. It had been a long time since he drew by candlelight, but he could still manage it. They couldn't afford for him to get behind on his work.

"Hey, Dawson," George said jovially. "Some weather we're having, huh?"

"Yeah," Jack replied. "I woke up in an icebox."

George laughed. "So, you're one of those that got hit. Not going back already, are you?" he added, noticing Jack's armful of papers and art supplies. "Why not stay here where it's warm?"

"I gotta go make sure my family's alright," Jack said. "Her mother's with them, but—"

"Her mother's living with you?" George shook his head. "That's a bad situation."

"It's not so bad." Jack shrugged. "It's only temporary, until Rose has the baby. We needed some extra help."

"Sure, you say that not, but you might never get her out," George said ominously. "Trust me. The same thing happened to my brother. His wife's mother came for a visit, to help with the kids, and she never left."

"She won't want to stay," Jack said. "She has her own life. She hates it here. She hates _me_."

George laughed. "Don't they all hate us?"

"And besides," Jack went on. "We don't have enough room. We'll need the room she's in before long."

"You could always move."

"No," Jack replied. "It took too long to find this house. If we move again it'll be out've the city."

"Well, good luck getting her out," George said. "And surviving the weekend. The radio says we're gonna get stuck. That's why I'm going to have a drink. Maybe I'll get trapped with a pretty girl and a few bottles of Scotch."

Jack hoped to never become like him but he wasn't terribly afraid he would. As far as he could tell marriage was an obligation and disappointment to George; it had never been either of those things for him. But George's prediction that Ruth would live with them forever was more disconcerting than he cared to admit. When the time came to leave, would she? Or would she decide living with them was more comfortable? But she despised him. As he walked home, he wondered if that wouldn't motivate her to stay. Her distrust of him and her belief that he could never properly care for Rose and the children might convince her she was needed there.

…

The house was quiet when he came in. It was dark and bitterly cold on the first floor. He tried the lights, but the electricity was still out. It didn't take long to get a fire going in the kitchen stove. It was out of date, but it was more useful than a modern appliance. Soon, the kitchen was warm, and a few candles gave it a soft light. He set about preparing lunch.

Ruth's door was closed. He went past it without knocking. His own door was closed, but to keep in warmth, not as he suspected with Ruth's, to keep anyone out. The fire glowed cheerfully. Rose slept, the twins still on either side of her. They opened their eyes at the sound of his step. Jack held a finger to his lips and they nodded, slipping form bed. He took their hands. "Want some lunch?" he whispered.

Ruth declined his offer of food, but after a few minutes her hunger got the better of her, and she appeared in the kitchen. The smell was delightful. Jack pulled a pan of biscuits from the oven, and she wanted one more than she cared to admit. So far, she had either refused to eat his cooking or found fault with it. Her main complaint was how simple it was. He took a few things already in the kitchen and made meals out of them. How could Rose possible enjoy the dishes he prepared? But they were good. Flavorful. Filling. When he made something the aroma filled the house. And he made it look easy. Too easy, Ruth thought.

Without a word, she sat down. Jack just nodded at her as they began eating. She watched him fill a plate and cover it before placing it in the oven to keep warm.

…

Jack was there when she woke up. Rose smiled. "Did I sleep all day?" she asked.

"No. I came home early," he said. "Pretty much as soon as I got there. The weather's supposed to get worse, so I thought I should be here."

"Where are—"

"In the kitchen," he replied. "Don't worry. It's warm down there. I got a fire going in the stove, and everyone's had lunch. Except you," he added, handing her the still-warm plate.

Rose tried to eat slowly, but she couldn't. She was ravenous, as if she hadn't eaten in days. "There's more," he said with a grin.

"I know what you must be thinking," she said.

"That you enjoy my cooking?"

"No," she said.

"You don't?" he teased.

Rose rolled her eyes but grinned as she did it. "Have it your way, Jack."

"I think you're beautiful," he said, looking into her eyes.

"I don't feel beautiful."

He set the empty plate aside. "Can I help?" He caressed her face with his fingertips and kissed her softly, moving closer when she pressed a hand against the back of his neck.

"Jack," she breathed.

Too late he realized what he had done. He felt her desire as strongly as he felt his own. But there wasn't anything to be done about it. "We can't," he reminded her. He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers.

"I know," she said. "I don't think I've ever wanted you this badly."

"Oh really?"

"Maybe…maybe on the ship," she said.

"We'll make up for it," he promised.

"You'll still want me then?"

"Always."

And the snow kept falling, covering the streets and the house. The world outside was sparkling and frozen. The sun disappeared behind thick clouds, and they gathered in the kitchen, grateful for the warmth and light they had. Jack carried Rose down and placed her in a chair near the stove. She was wrapped in a quilt, more to make the wooden chair more comfortable than to ward off cold. If she wouldn't stay in bed—and how could he tell her to stay up there alone?—then he would bring as much of it to her as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

It kept snowing. The city came to a stop. Everyone was inside, trying to stay warm, waiting for the blizzard to end. Jack kept a fire going in the kitchen stove, and they spend the next few days around it. He brewed pots of tea and pulled a more comfortable chair in from the living room for Rose. The children practiced reading; they played their invented Chess/Checkers game. Rose knitted. Sometimes she read; other time she napped, sitting up, without meaning to. Jack tried to draw, but Ruth's disapproving stare made it impossible, so he put his work aside.

It would have been a pleasant time, if not for her. Her unhappiness invaded the room, and they were all tense as a result. Rose tried vainly to make conversation. "The weather hasn't been this bad in a few years," she said. "It's worse than Philadelphia, isn't it Mother?"

"Much worse," Ruth said. "But then, nearly everything here is."

Undaunted, Rose continued cheerfully. "At least we're warm. Jack can manage to build a fire anywhere."

"It's good to know he can manage something."

Rose turned to Jack for help, but he knew no way to change her mood or opinions. Being firm and confronting her was clearly only going to do so much. Had they not been trapped by the cold Rose would likely have confronted her again. She held in her anger for the sake of the children. She knew the tension wasn't good for them. Something had to be done about it. Jack worried about them and about Rose. Why couldn't Ruth just be pleasant, even if she didn't mean it? Just for their sakes? No-one was asking her to like him. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he didn't like her. It wasn't a feeling left-over from their first days together. Once Rose told him the whole story, he almost understood Ruth's perspective on the whole thing. Cal would have provided for Rose—and her children—in ways he would never be able to. On paper, he was the better choice, and Jack admitted it. If the situation were reversed, he knew he would want Emily to marry a man with more than a knapsack full of clothes and some drawings. What they'd done was crazy, and maybe foolish, and it could easily have ended badly. So he understood Ruth's anger, her distrust of him, at first, but it was wearing thin.

"If it stops snowing we could go outside," he suggested. Ben and Emily looked up at him eagerly. "Not for long," he added.

"No, it's too cold to go out for very long," Rose agreed. She shivered despite the warmth of the kitchen. The memory of the freezing North Atlantic washed over her. The rest of the house felt that cold until Jack lit a fire.

"Does it have to stop snowing?" Emily asked.

"It has to stop snowing so hard," Jack answered. "We could lose you." She didn't believe him, but she accepted the response. The possibility of being lost and separated from her family was unthinkable to her.

"You wouldn't actually take them outside in this weather, would you?" Ruth said.

"Just for a few minutes," Rose said. "They should get a chance to enjoy the snow. All children should."

"I never let you go out in it," Ruth sniffed.

"Yes, I know," Rose said. "I remember."

Jack had been astonished when she first told him. They were in Vermont. It was their first Christmas together, and snow fell steadily all Christmas Eve. They watched through the front window of the tiny house they'd found.

"I bet the lake's frozen," he said.

"Are you in the mood for some ice fishing?" she asked.

"Maybe later." He grinned. "It's not a good day for it."

"Scared?" she teased.

"A little."

"Good because I was afraid you'd say yes," she replied. "And the thought of walking out onto a frozen lake terrifies me. I've never even walked through snow."

Jack stared at her. "You're joking."

"No, I'm not."

"You mean you never played in the snow when you were a kid?"

"Never," she said. "My mother didn't allow it. She thought it would make me sick. And it wasn't proper behavior for a young lady."

"Yeah, I guess a snowball fight wouldn't be."

"And who would I have fought with?" Rose asked.

"C'mon," he said, taking her hand.

"Where are we going?"

"Outside," he said.

"What? Why? Jack, we can't," she said. "It's freezing out there!"

"That's why the rain turned to snow," he said jokingly. He held out her cost. "C'mon, Rose, I'm gonna show you how to play in that snow."

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing. Jack showed her how to make a snowball. There was only the two of them, but that didn't make their battle any less exciting.

Snowflakes covered them. Their faces were red from the cold. It was beginning to seep into their clothes. It was clearly time to go inside, but they lingered a moment, just to look at each other. The snow had transformed the world into a magical place, and it seemed to have transformed them along with it.

"Thank you," Rose said. "This was wonderful."

"I wish I'd known you as a kid," Jack told her. "We coulda had so much fun."

Rose smiled at the memory. She ran her hand through Jack's hair affectionately. He smiled over at her. "You can come with us," he said. "I'll bring out a chair."

"You don't have to do that," she said.

"Come with us," Ben pleaded.

"Yeah, Mama," Emily chimed in. Ruth said nothing.

….

The snow paused briefly. The children scrambled for their coats the moment it did. Jack followed, fetching the scarves, gloves, and hats they forgot in their haste. Rose had to wear one of his old coats; her own wouldn't fit at all anymore. She didn't bother with her own boots; like her coat, they didn't fit. She pulled on a pair of Jack's, and as bundled as they could be, the four of them set out.

It was the same backyard, but it had an air of mystery now. The thick blanket of snow gave it a magical feel, as if anything could happen. The surface was hard. Walking wasn't too difficult, but Jack guided Rose across it anyway. The children ran, laughing. Ruth watched from the window, wondering what all the fuss was about. It was just _snow_. Rose had never cared about it before. That was Jack's doing, of course. Only he could convince her something so common was worthwhile. He'd convinced her he was, hadn't he?

…..

"Here," Jack said, putting the mug of hot tea in Rose's hands.

"Thank you."

"You're getting a bath after the kids," he said.

"I'm fine. I'll be warm in a minute," she said. "You go ahead."

"Please?" he said. "I can wait."

"You just want to get me naked, don't you?" she said, looking up at him through her lashes.

"And warm."

They still had running water, but it felt like ice when it came out. Jack brought a tub into the kitchen and heated the bathwater on the stove. Again, he was reminded of home. Winters had been exactly like this. Baths were always like this, only the water had to be carried in from outside. He was grateful he didn't have to do that anymore. Ruth stayed in her room, refusing the offer of a bath before it came. Jack just shrugged. "Let her do what she wants," he said. But it bothered Rose.

By the time the children had finished their room was warm. When the blizzard began they slept with Jack and Rose, but by the second day the novelty had worn off and they asked to go back to their own beds. Jack put a heavy screen in front of the fire and made them promise not to go near it.

"Your turn," Jack said.

"Already?" Rose laid down her book.

"Already."

She held tightly to Jack as he carried her downstairs. He still picked her up easily, but she feared her new heaviness would upset his balance. But it never did. He helped her lower herself into the tub. Her sore muscles cried out in relief as they hit the water. She leaned back, sighing contentedly.

"Want me to go?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Stay."

Jack knelt by the side of the tub. She washed slowly, luxuriating in the hot water. He watched, but his interest wasn't sexual, not entirely. Desire was there. How could it not be? No matter what she said, she was still gorgeous to him. Being pregnant didn't diminish her beauty; it only altered it. But really, he just liked being near her. They hadn't been alone, except in bed, in what felt like a very long time. Being quiet and together was nice.

The house was silent when Jack took his bath. The twins were asleep. Ruth was in her room. Rose was in bed. "Don't be too long?" she said when he left. He knew she didn't like sleeping alone. Neither did he. Having her next to him had taken some getting used to at first. He always had a bed to himself growing up, and when he left him he was alone more often than not. The friends he had during his travels tended not to move on with him. The girls he met didn't go either.

Jack soaked in the steaming water, letting the memories unfold. He didn't know why they were coming now, of all times. There was something nice about them, though. He didn't think about his life before Rose often anymore. It seemed like a distant dream. All those things he did, the places he went, even the ship, all seemed like things that happened to someone else. The children would never believe it when he told them, and there was no proof really, so why should they?

Once the twins asked how he and Rose met. The question was solemnly placed before him, and Jack hadn't known how to respond. How much of the truth was too much? It was the same problem they would face a few months later when trying to explain Rose's pregnancy.

"We met while were traveling," Jack told them. "We were on the same ship."

"Where were you going?" Ben asked.

"We were coming back to America," he explained. "We'd been in Europe. Remember the places I showed you on the map?"

They nodded. "Why were you there?" Emily asked.

"Just to go. To see the places," Jack replied. "It was fun."

"Did she like you?" Ben asked, just as Emily said, "Did you like her?"

Jack laughed. "We liked each other a lot, as soon as we met. We spent as much time together as we could until we got to New York."

"Then what?" Emily prompted.

"Then we got married.

"Why?" Ben asked.

"Well, because that's what you do when you love someone," Jack explained. "And you want to always be with them." They had accepted that answer, but later he found out they asked Rose the same questions.

His mind wandered from the present back through the past again. He remembered the winters of his childhood. Being trapped in the house with his parents for days while it snowed. Ice fishing with his father, which he enjoyed even after falling through the ice. He had never taken Rose, though he always meant to. He hadn't taken he back there either, though he always meant to do that as well.

…

Rose felt for him. "Jack?" she said slowly.

"Be there in a minute," he whispered. He added another stick of wood to the fire and slipped out to check on the twins. Their room was warm. They slept soundly. He added more wood to the fire and left. Some might had said they were wasting it by keeping so many fires going, but Jacl refused to compromise on warmth, and Rose agreed. Staying warm wasn't a luxury; it was essential, no matter what the cost.

Rose was fully awake when he came back in. He shivered as he shrugged out of a sweater. "Come here," she said. "Get warm." His hands were cold when they touched her. She pulled the blanket up over him and held him close. "Were the children alright?" she asked.

"Fine. Sleeping. Like you should be."

"A few minutes awake won't hurt me," she said. "And the baby was kicking again."

"Yeah?' he said excitedly. He put a hand on her belly and was rewarded by a movement of some kind. "That's amazing," he said.

"It is, isn't it? I can't quite believe it sometimes. I can't believe the twins are _ours_ , that we made them."

"Well, you made them," he said.

"You helped."

"I'm not sure I'd call it helping. It was a joy, though," he added flirtatiously.

"I didn't mean just that," she said. "But I'm sure it was."

"You sound pretty confident about that."

"Do I have any reason not to be?" she said.

"No." Jack kissed her neck. "You should always know it's a privilege to make love to you," he added in a whisper.

"A privilege? Even when I had no idea what I was doing?"

"You always knew what you were doing, Rose," he said.

"We have to stop this, Jack," she said, her breaths coming more quickly.

"I know."

They looked into each other's eyes, not wanting to stop. The stress of the last few months made them craze the closeness of their lovemaking even more.

Jack lay his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. She stroked his hair slowly, waiting to fall asleep again. Half-dreaming, she watched a familiar scene unfold. Ruth's frowning, her disapproving stare. Her own and Jack's attempts to ignore or subvert her comments and sighs. All of the effort it took to live with her peacefully canceled out the help she gave.

"Jack, we have to do something," she said, barely aware she was speaking out loud.

"I'll do whatever it is in the morning," he replied in a voice thick with sleep.

"No, I'm talking about Mother." She rubbed her eyes. If they didn't talk now she decided, she would dream about it again.

"What about her?" he yawned.

"The way she's been acting, the way she speaks to us—to you. She's stopped trying to turn the children against you, but when she stops being afraid we'll keep them away from her she'll probably start again."

"Wait. She did what?" he said.

"I didn't tell you because you had enough to worry about. She was talking about you to the wins, saying just absurd, horrible things, that you weren't good enough for us."

"She did what?" he said again, angrily.

"I already spoke to her about it," Rose said. "I'll do it again if necessary. There's nothing to get upset about, not where she's concerned."

"How do I not get upset?" he asked. "She came here saying she wanted to help us, and she's done everything she could to make us miserable, especially you and the kids. She had no right talking to them that way."

"I told her that. Jack, I made it clear she was never to do that again, not in front of them. She can think whatever she likes privately. Jack, please, don't be angry."

"I'm not angry with you," he said.

"I know. But she's my mother. I should be the one to deal with this. You're always taking care of everything."

"I do that because I want to."

"This isn't the life you wanted, is it?" she said quietly.

"What are you talking about? Why would you say that, Rose?"

"We wouldn't still be here if it weren't for the children," she said. "We'd be traveling. You wouldn't go to the same dull job every day. My mother wouldn't be living with us."

"I might be. We might've settled somewhere anyway. You can't wander forever. It was great, but you deserved better than that. I wanted to give you more. You…" He let the sentence dangle, unfinished.

"What?"

"You're happy, aren't you?" he asked.

"Of course I am. Jack, I didn't mean—it's you I'm worried about. I know you. You wouldn't leave us even if you wanted to."

"You should know I don't want to be anywhere else."

"I do know that, or at least I thought I did. A few days ago I wouldn't even have asked that," she said. "It's being trapped here with my mother like this, knowing what she's thinking about us. She always said I couldn't trust you; you would leave."

"Does she still say that to you?"

"No," she replied. "Not directly. She implies. She gets her point across. And I've been having enough trouble fighting the urge to cry lately."

"What do you mean? Like the last time?"

She nodded. "It just comes out of nowhere."

"You're always so calm and cheerful," he said. "I didn't know that was happening again." How could he have missed it, he wondered.

"I've been hiding it. I didn't want the twins to see my upset. Mother already thinks I'm irrational. I can't give her another reason to think so. Or worse, she'll just think she's been right all along."

"You don't have to hide it from me," he said.

"I don't want to worry you. Things have been so difficult lately—"

"Difficult for me?" he said incredulously. "What about you? Sure, I'm worried about you, Honey-Rose, and the baby, but it's not all happening in my body. Don't think you have to hide the way you feel. I know it can't be easy. I can't imagine it. I don't know how you're doing it."

"Sometimes I don't know either," she said. "I think I can't, but then the twins come in, and I know I can. I know why I wanted this baby, why I still want it."

"I want it too." Jack kissed her gently. "And I want you. We can ask your mother to leave, you know. We'll figure something out. I can do my work from home."

"No, it's alright. I want them to decide whether or not to have her in their lives. We're the only family they have, aside from each other. I don't want them thinking we kept that relationship from them. I'll talk to her again," Rose said. "She isn't—there are good things about her. I know there are."

"She's your mother. I know you love her, in spite of everything," he said. "I lose mine. I get how much that hurts. But Rose, don't let her make you miserable. Don't feel guilty for living the life you want."

Rose slept peacefully, but Jack kept waking up. He was too angry to sleep. He knew Ruth despised him; that was obvious. But how dare she make Rose unhappy, especially now. And the children. If she cared so little for their feelings, why did she want to know them at all?


	4. Chapter 4

The blizzard finally ended. The days were cold and clear. The electricity came back, and the house was filled with warmth again. Now that they weren't so confined, things seemed to be going better. Ruth attempted friendliness. Jack began coming home even earlier in the afternoons. He worked on his drawings in the living room, with Rose and the children around him. He made dinner, much to Ruth's chagrin and relief. She didn't like feeling indebted to him for anything, even something as simple as a meal.

She didn't like being there at all, really. She didn't like anything about the way they lived. Why couldn't Jack find a real job and support his family properly? But she had nothing to go back to, and that upset her more than anything. She had given up her small apartment—a drab, awful place, in her opinion. Her small income, derived from what was left after the house and everything in it was sold and the creditors paid, barely gave her enough to live on. That she wasn't exaggerating; it truly was a pittance. Living with them helped the money go further. She just wished living with them was more agreeable. More than anything, Ruth wished Jack were different, that he went after money, that he fit her vision of a man.

Rose's happiness mystified her. What was so special about him that she was willing to give up a life of ease and luxuries to be with him? That she was willing to give up traveling, parties, nurses for her children, the best schools? Her own father hadn't been home this often, nor had her husband. Had Albert ever played with Rose? Ruth couldn't remember it. She certainly couldn't imagine him teaching her to peel potatoes or how to cut a piece of paper into a snowflake, as Jack had done with the twins only that day.

Rose lay on the couch, asleep. Jack draped a blanket over her and put her book on the floor. He bent down and kissed her softly. She didn't stir. He touched her belly and felt the baby move. It wouldn't be long now. He tried not to worry, but the memory of the twins' birth was still vivid. He had been there, next to her, the entire time. It was wonderful and terrifying all at once. As he encouraged her, he'd feared she would die. That happened a lot. What would protect her from it?

She made it through once. She would again. He kept telling himself that.

…..

Ruth saw those little moments, the affection that passed between them. She watched Jack gather Rose in his arms and carry her, up and down the stairs, into the kitchen, even outside, despite the cold. "I need to feel the sun," Rose said one afternoon. "Please, Jack?" The children's ears pricked up at the mention of going outside.

"Alright," he said. "We'll all go."

Ben and Emily ran around the backyard, free to move and yell again, at last. Their heavy coats and scarves kept them warm and broke their falls. Rose laughed as she watched them. She sat in a rocking chair, Jack's coat and a blanket covering her. He stood next to her, holding her hand. "They're happy, aren't they?" she said.

"Yeah, they really are," he agreed.

"We're not doing this wrong, are we?"

Jack shook his head. "They're happy, healthy, clean, smart. I don't know what else we can ask for."

"The things my mother said before, they won't affect them," she said. He wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question.

"You're worried they'll agree with her, when they're older."

"Yes, a little. I worried about that before she ever got here, though," Rose said. "I wondered what they would think if they found out the truth about us."

"They know the truth about us. We love each other, and we got married. The rest of it doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it?" she asked. "Just because we don't think about it doesn't mean they won't, or that other people wouldn't if they knew. And it is important," she went on. "We went through so much to be together." She held his hand tightly. "I nearly lost you so many times, all in one night."

"You want to tell them?" he said.

"Not now, of course, but eventually, when they're older. It's important they know."

"You're right," Jack said. They watched the children silently for a moment and then he added, "She hasn't said anything else, has she?"

"No. She's been strangely pleasant. Haven't you noticed?"

"I try to ignore her," he replied. "And she tries to ignore me."

"I guess that's the best we can do," she said.

"It's still bothering you, isn't it? I'll tell her to leave. I know she's your mother, but that doesn't give her the right to make you feel like this," he reminded her.

"It's you and the children I'm worried about."

"We'll be fine," he said. "It's too cold, though. We should go inside."

"You're right," she said reluctantly. "But this was nice."

…

Rose napped during the afternoon. It was never planned. She tried to avoid it, but every day now she drifted off, usually on the couch. When this happened Jack would gather his supplies and silently usher the twins into the kitchen. Ruth followed, though she generally remained silent once there. Jack gave them colored paper to write and draw on. He showed them how to cut out other shapes, not just snowflakes, and how to fold paper into an airplane. Getting it to fly was a challenge which they tried to overcome until the day he came home with two yo-yos. Their names had been painted in tiny, perfect letters on them.

"I'll show you how to play with them," Jack said, bending down to their level. They watched intently as he tossed it down and pulled it back up, catching it. He tossed both down at once and caught them easily. "When you get this part, I'll teach you more tricks," he promised.

They hurried off to show Rose, but she was already asleep. They tiptoed up to their room to play. Jack busied himself making lunch. Ruth sat at the table, sewing. He felt her eyes on his back. He wished she would just say whatever she was thinking and be done with it.

"So, the baby'll be coming soon," he said. His voice was loud in the silence.

"Yes, I know."

"How, uh, how long were you planning to stay after that?" he asked.

"Is there a limit?" Her voice was crisp.

"Not really. But you know we'll need that room eventually. The baby can't sleep with us forever."

"Is this your way of telling me I have to leave?" she said. "I'll go now, if you want me to."

Jack was tempted to tell her to go. "I'm not saying that." He pounded biscuit dough with his palm. "But we all agreed this would be temporary."

"Yes, I suppose we did."

"And you don't want to stay here forever, do you?" he said, fearing the answer.

"No, I don't." But where, she wondered, would she go? Her stare was cold, masking her true feelings.

"Why did you come here?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You hate being here. You're not happy. You hate everything about the way we live," he said. "You've made that very clear."

"I have a right to disapprove."

"But how can you have a problem with _everything_?" Jack said. "Haven't you gotten over what happened _yet_?"

"How can I?" she said sharply. "I don't know how you did it, how you tricked her into going with you, or why she's stayed, but it was the worst mistake she's ever made. When I see the life she had now and think of the life she could have had—" Her voice was louder now. "I can't stand it!"

"You need to be quieter," he said. "Rose is sleeping, and the children don't need to hear any more of this than they already have."

His calmness was infuriating. "You don't want them knowing the truth," she hissed.

"They know the truth. And as for the details of our past, they're too young for that," Jack said. "They know everything they need to know at five, and I don't want to hear you upsetting them or Rose again. Not if you plan on staying here another minute. You can hate me all you want. I don't care. My wife and my children are the only things that matter to me, and I won't let them be hurt by anyone."

….

Rose sensed the change in the air, but Jack shrugged it off when she mentioned it. Jack started coming home even earlier. By the end of the next week he was just going to work long enough to get his assignments and drop of what he'd finished. He stayed up late to finish anything he couldn't do during the day. After Rose fell asleep he slipped out of bed and drew in the kitchen. Ruth avoided him even more. They went from barely speaking to not at all. But she seemed to be going out of her way to be even nicer to Rose and the twins, which he noticed. This change in behavior made Rose worry.

"It feels as if I'm going to die," she said one night. "And she knows, so she's being nice to me."

"You aren't going to die. Don't say things like that."

She put a comforting arm around him. "Are you worried I will?"

"No. I know you won't. You're gonna be fine," he said. He leaned closer to her. "You were great before, and that was two babies."

"But sometimes things happen, things go wrong. It wouldn't be strange if you were worried. I am."

"You are?"

"Of course," she said. "I know I could die. I think about how you and the children would get along if I did."

"I don't know that we would," he said.

"Oh, Jack, of course you would," Rose said. "You'd have to. You can't give up, no matter what happens, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." His cheek pressed against her side. "And you can't either. We need you."

They settled into bed. Jack lay in her arms, one leg over hers, his head resting on her shoulder. Rose stroked his hair. "Do you want to hear a story?" she whispered.

"A happy one?"

"Of course," she said.

"Yes."

As she talked, starting with the plot of a novel she'd read, he fell asleep.

…

It wasn't long before the day came when Rose could barely take three steps on her own, even when she got a chance to try. She didn't have the energy, and she had trouble keeping her balance. If she wasn't careful, she tipped forward. It wouldn't be long now at all. She kept that thought in her mind constantly. Soon. Soon it would be over. Now that she had been pregnant twice and cared for two babies at once, she knew without a doubt she preferred the prospect for caring for one over the carrying it any longer than necessary.

She couldn't sleep in bed anymore. Her back hurt, and only the couch was comfortable now. It was firmer. She almost wanted to sleep on it at night but knew Jack would insist on sleeping on the floor next to her. She could already hear him saying, "But what if you need something, Petal?" There would be no dissuading him. And what would her mother say?

But Ruth had been less critical lately. Her burst of friendliness hadn't worn off, and it seemed to be almost getting stronger. The change baffled Rose. Once, she caught her on the verge of playing with the children. Ruth stopped as soon as she realized Rose was there, but that didn't change the fact that it happened. Ben and Emily noticed the change as well and wondered at it when they were alone. Only Jack seemed not to be curious about it. He took it in stride, as if it was just the way things should be.

"Are you sure you can spend so much time here?" Rose asked. "Won't they miss you at the office?"

Jack shook his head. He kept his focus on rubbing her feet. "I work by myself most of the time anyway," he answered. "It's fine."

"I wish you could stay home with us all the time."

"Do you really?"

"Of course I do. So do the children," she said. "You're here so much already, though; it's more than enough. I'm sure it's more time than other men spend at home. It's certainly more time than my father ever spent with me or Mother."

"He was wasting his time then," he said.

"He lost a fortune," she said. "Mother might actually agree with you about that."

Jack chuckled. "I can't believe that. Maybe I could do more work from home," he added. "Even after the baby comes. You'll need help."

"Isn't that why my mother is here?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but couldn't you use another pair of hands? She can handle the twins alright, better now than before, but can she handle a baby?"

"I don't know," Rose said. "We've never really talked about what will happen after the baby's born. It's always been sort of understood that I would handle the baby, and she would handle the twins. But she didn't take care of me, when I was a baby."

"Right. You had a nurse."

"Two, actually," she said. "But one left when I got older."

"I can't imagine growing up like that. It sounds lonely."

"No, not really. I was never alone. I never felt alone, not as a child. I would've like to have spent more time with other children, though," she said. "It's always bothered me that I didn't have any brothers or sisters. That's one thing my parents and I always agreed on."

"Well, of course. Jack, you know that story. What use was one daughter, even a pretty one?"

Jack just shook his head; his feelings on that subject were well-known. "It's funny," he said. "Us both being only children."

"What's funny about it?"

"Doesn't seem that common," he replied. "Where I'm from, most families have two or three, at least."

"I'm glad we'll have three. It's a good number."

"And we got two at once," he grinned.

"I could possibly have done without that," she said, laughing.

"They were a lot to deal with," he agreed.

"Sometimes they still are. They're so smart and so curious. I don't always know how to answer their questions," she said. "And they're so _honest_."

"Especially Emily. She reminds me of you," he said.

"Oh, I was much more timid as a child."

"I'm thinking about the girl who kept yelling at me and insulting me," he said. "She wasn't timid."

"Yes, she was. She just knew she was safe with you. No matter what I said, you wouldn't leave, and you wouldn't hurt me."

"I still won't," he said.

She smiled. "Even if I call you rude, uncouth, and presumptuous?"

"I consider it a compliment now. Those are terms of endearment," he said.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. How're your feet feeling?"

"Much better. Thank you," she said.

"Try to sleep before dinner," he said, kissing her. "I'll cook slowly."

She caught his arm as he moved to go. "Jack, I love you."

"I love you too, Rose."

….

The pains began during the afternoon. Rose said nothing. They were bearable and far apart. It would be a while before anyone else needed to know. Jack was playing with Ben and Emily. It was unseasonably warm. They ran through the backyard, laughing and shouting. She watched from her place on the porch, swathed in blankets, despite the warm day. It was Jack's way of leaving his arms around her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, as he carried her inside.

"I'm fine," she said.

She tried but couldn't eat dinner. Jack looked at her with concerned eyes. The pain was coming faster now, and she was sure he could tell. "You sure you're alright?" he said.

She nodded. "Everything is as it should be, Jack."

It was when they were getting ready for bed that she knew it was time to tell him. She was grateful the twins were already in bed. With any luck, they wouldn't know what was happening until it was over. They were too young to know; they wouldn't understand. Rose wished her mother had a house of her own, nearby, so they could send them to her.

"Jack," Her voice was shakier than she would have liked. He turned to her, alert for whatever might be amiss. She couldn't hide it any longer.

"Now?" he said, already pulling his shirt back on.

"It's been happening since this afternoon," she said. "It's getting closer." She breathed slowly, almost without realizing, as if it might help.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Rose tried to sound light. "What good would that have done? You would have only worried, and there were still hours to go."

"You're sure?" he said.

"Yes."

Jack moved quickly, though he was in a fog. He'd known it was coming; it would happen anytime. But he still hadn't quite expected it. It had taken him by surprise the first time too. He put on his shoes. "You need to be in bed," he said. Gently, he helped her lie down. He piled pillows around her in a futile attempt to make her comfortable. "I'll call the doctor," he said. "Do you want your mother?"

"I don't know," Rose answered. "I'm not sure she would help."

"I won't be long."

Jack made the call, wishing it would go faster as he waited to be connected. He was grateful for the good weather. What would they have done if it were still snowing? He knocked on Ruth's door. She stared at him in surprise when she opened it. Before she could speak, he said, "The baby's coming. I need you to help."

"With the—with—"

"No," he said quickly. "I called the doctor. She's on her way. I need you to help with the twins. If they wake up. Maybe sit with Rose for a minute."

"She?" Ruth said sharply. "A _woman_ is—"

"Rose wanted a woman, and it makes sense. We can't argue about it now," Jack said. "Please. Come help."

The children were asleep; they seemed to have no clue what was going on around them. Jack was already by Rose's side when Ruth came in. He knelt next to her, holding her hands. He tried to hide his fear, but Ruth saw it. But there was tenderness in his gaze as well. He kept caressing Rose's hands. They spoke in hushed voices. Ruth wondered at his presence. It was no place for a husband. She felt uncomfortable there. Rose turned to her smiled wanly. Ruth didn't know what to say.

Rose's face contorted in pain, and she clenched her jaw against a cry. Jack looked as if he'd been hit himself. "Squeeze my hand," he said.

"I might break it," Rose warned. "You may want to move your drawing hand away from me." She laughed, but it was flat. Jack kissed her hair.

"I'll risk it," he said. She felt hot. Was she supposed to feel hot? He couldn't remember, and it scared him even more. But she couldn't know that.

Ruth wanted to offer comfort, but she didn't know how. What could she say? Her own experiences with this were so far away; she only dimly remembered them. Her mother hadn't been there, neither had her husband. But she remembered the first time Rose was handed to her. She was filled with conflicting emotions, and she feared she would cry. She was glad when the doorbell rang, and she was able to leave.

"You can do this," Jack said.

"I know. It'll be over soon."

"Yeah, it will be," he said. "And you'll be fine. You and the baby'll be fine, and you'll rst. I'll hold you both," he promised.

"Don't leave me, Jack."

"Never," he said. He did his best to reassure her, but he was still afraid himself.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack held Rose's hand. "You can do it," he said. "Rose, you can do this. It's almost over." She just nodded. Her hair was flat; sweat covered her face. She clenched her jar against the pain and squeezed his hand, digging her nails into his skin. Jack didn't feel it. He wanted to help her, but he couldn't. His efforts seemed so inadequate. Finally, it was over. Rose lay back, exhausted. She loosened her grip on him. The baby cried, and it was only when he reached for it that he realized his hand was bleeding. "It's a girl," the doctor said.

Jack laughed, though he didn't know why. The blanket she was wrapped in made her seem even smaller. She already had a patch of golden red hair. She looked up at him with curious, blue eyes. Gently, he touched the downy hair on her hair. "Hello," he whispered. He turned to Rose and knew something was wrong. Her eyes were closed. Her face was a chalky white, and her breathing was shallow. "Rose?" he said fearfully, half-expecting her to answer.

"She'll be alright," the doctor said briskly. "Just step away from her."

"What?" he said. How could leaving her possibly help? Didn't this woman know he wasn't supposed to leave her ever? He'd promised.

"She's bleeding too much. Please, let me handle this."

"She's—" Jack couldn't speak. He saw the blood now. There was so much; everything was red. What did that mean? Was she dying? And then it flashed, yes, she was. She very well might die. But she couldn't. No, that wouldn't happen. Not now, not yet, not like this.

Jack didn't know how he ended up in the hallway. He sat on the floor, the baby cradled in his arms. She settled against his chest, content now, to look up at him. "It's alright," he said. "Everything's gonna be fine. You're fine, right?" He paused, as if she could reply. "Right, and your mother's gonna be fine too. You don't have anything to worry about. She's strong. She's lived through a lot," he said. "She saved me, you know that? Twice. I'd be dead right now if it weren't for her." A lump filled his throat, and he couldn't speak again.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he felt the hand on his shoulder. He looked up, hoping to see Rose, but it was Ruth. His appearance shocked her. He was pale; his eyes were bloodshot, as if he'd been crying. He looked lost and frightened. She felt a rush of sympathy for him. "What happened?" she asked.

"She'll be fine," he said.

Ruth looked from the bundle in his arms to the closed door. "Rose—"

"No!" he cried, startling the baby. "I'm sorry," he said softly, rocking her. "Won't do that again."

"Do you want me to take the baby?" Ruth offered.

"No." He wanted to explain he needed to hold her; everything depended on it. But the words stuck in his throat, and if he said too much he'd start crying again, and then where would they be? If he held the baby, kept her safe and happy, then Rose would be safe too. His love would protect them both. Ruth wouldn't understand; she'd think he was crazy, but Rose would understand.

….

Ruth sat with him, only leaving to check on the twins. They said nothing. They didn't have to. After what felt like days, the doctor came out. Jack searched her face for clues but found none. "How is she?" he asked, hardly daring to hope.

"She's stable. She should be fine—"

"Can I see her?" he asked.

"Yes, but she's very weak," she answered. "She needs rest and food and more rest. It might be a few weeks before she fully recovers."

Ruth was silent, her face impassive. Jack's relief was enough for both of them; he said all the things she couldn't. His eyes met hers, and they realized how afraid the other had been. His love was something Ruth didn't understand, but it was real. It was strong. She still worried it wasn't enough. There were so many problems it couldn't solve. Hadn't she loved Albert? It hadn't been enough then.

"Do you want to see her?" Jack asked.

"You go first," Ruth said. "The twins will be getting up soon. I'll take care of them."

Rose looked much the same as when he saw her last. Carefully, he sat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes cracked open. "Jack?" Her voice was faint.

"It's me."

"How's the baby?"

"She's fine," he said. "She's perfect."

"We had a girl?"

"Yeah. She's got red hair," he said. "She's gonna look like you." Rose fought to sit up. "Don't," he said. "You need to rst."

"I want to hold her," she said.

Jack moved so he was next to her. He kept one arm around Rose and used the other to help her hold the baby. She slept soundly, oblivious to the turmoil of her birth. "Jack, she's perfect," Rose gasped. "You held her this whole time?"

"Never put her down. I didn't think she should feel alone."

"I didn't feel alone either," she said. "It was like you were next to me."

Jack kissed her hair. "I love you, Rose. I love you so much. Don't ever leave me. I couldn't—We need you. Maybe I don't tell you that enough."

In his eyes she saw the pain and fear of the past night. It was the same look he'd worn after they were rescued from the water. They'd huddled under a blanket, holding each other, shivering, and promised to be together forever.

…..

Jack made breakfast. Tea. Pancakes. Toast. Bacon. Eggs. More food than they needed, but he didn't care. Rose needed to eat, didn't she? Ben and Emily were quiet when they came in. They were afraid of disturbing the stillness of the house. They sensed a change had occurred, but Ruth would only tell them their mother was resting. Jack smiled when he saw them. He scooped them up, one in each arm, and hugged them tightly. "What happened?" Ben asked.

"Is the baby here?" Emily asked.

"Yes, she's here," Jack answered.

"It's a girl?" Emily said brightly.

"There's just one?" Ben said. He'd been hoping for another set of twins.

"Just one," Jack said.

"Can we see her?" they said in unison.

"Not yet. Later, after she's slept a few hours. You can see her and your mother then."

"What's her name?" Emily asked.

"Is Mama okay?" Ben asked.

"She's fine," Jack said reassuringly. "She needs rest too. We haven't named the baby yet."

"Did she have to go far to get her?" Emily asked.

"Yes," Jack said. "She had to go very far."

….

Rose cradled the baby in her arms. She looked up at her as she nursed, eyes wide and curious. Rose couldn't stop staring at her. This was her third child, and yet she still couldn't believe any of them were really hers. They looked like her and Jack, but did that prove anything? She looked up as Jack came in carrying a full tray of food. "Is that all for me?" she asked.

"Sure is," he replied cheerfully.

"Jack, I couldn't possibly eat that much." Her stomach contradicted her with a growl.

"Maybe you just eat what you can," he said.

"This one doesn't have any problem eating," she said.

"Yeah, I see that." He smiled down at them. "What're we gonna call her?"

Rose laughed. "I don't know. That's the one thing we never thought about."

"I'll take her," Jack offered. He settled the baby against his chest. "What about Alice?"

"As in Wonderland?" Rose wrinkled her nose.

"Maybe not. Star-Lily?"

She laughed again. "You couldn't name Emily that. You can't name this one that. Why don't we keep avoiding flowers?"

"But I like them. You're a flower," he argued.

"And that's why none of our children should be. It's a difficult name to live up to."

"Jane," he suggested.

"No, that's _too_ plain. Victoria."

"I like that. It's a little big for her, though," he said. "Susan."

"Susan Victoria," Rose said. "Sue."

"Sue," Jack repeated. "I like it. It's little enough."

….

Ben and Emily marveled at their new sister. She looked more like a doll than an actual baby to them. They were afraid to touch her, though Emily bravely put a finger on her hair. Sue looked up at them and made a sound; Emily yanked her hand away. They leaned over her cradle, bursting with questions.

"When will she talk?"

"Can we play with her?"

"What does she eat?"

"Can we feed her pie?"

"No," Rose said good-naturedly. "You cannot feed her anything. She can't eat solid food yet. When she gets a little bigger, you can play with her, but she needs sleep more than anything else right now. So she can grow." Rose knelt down so they were level. "Not everyone's lucky enough to be a twin," she went on. "Don't make her feel bad because she doesn't have one. She has you two, and that's just as good, right?" They nodded. They were glad to have their mother back. They couldn't see how tired and weak she was; she hid it well.

"C'mon, you two," Jack said. "I need your help downstairs. Unless you don't want pie after all." They hugged Rose, one on each side.

"Go on," she said. "I'll come down later."

Jack touched their heads affectionately as they went by. "You're gonna take a nap, right?" he said to Rose.

"I will take a name as soon as Sue goes to sleep."

"I can watch her downstairs," he offered.

"No, she needs to go to sleep." Rose tried not to yawn, but it escaped anyway. There were heavy, dark circles under her eyes. She'd slept most of the previous day and night, but it hadn't helped much. Jack insisted she eat twice what she normally did, which helped a little.

"Want me to bring dinner up to you later?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, I'll come down."

He kissed her. "Rest," he said.

"I long for the day no-one says that to me."

"The more you rest, the sooner it'll be," Jack said.

When he was gone, Rose picked up Sue and paced the room with her. She wasn't fussing, but she wasn't eager for a nape either. Walking had usually gotten Ben and Emily to sleep. As he paced she whispered to her about the family she had, the things she would do.

…..

"She really is beautiful," Ruth said. She and Rose sat in the living room alone. Jack had taken the twins outside. Sue lay in her basked, dozing happily. For once, there wasn't tension in the air, and Rose was glad. She couldn't remember ever sitting pleasantly with her mother, not even as a child.

"Thank you." Rose smiled down at Sue. "Looking at her almost makes me want another."

"Rose, you can't mean that."

"Oh, I do," Rose replied. "But I won't have any more. We already decided three is enough. But," she added, laughing, "We also said that about two."

"Rose, really," Ruth scolded gently. "The things you say."

"What? We aren't strangers. If I can't say these things to you, who can I say them to?"

"It's unseemly," Ruth replied. "Women should talk about such things."

"You never talked this way with anyone?"

"Absolutely not."

"Maybe you should have," Rose said.

"I can't see why."

"It brings you closer. Jack and I talk about everything; we always have. It's what drew me to him. He was so easy to talk to, so different from everyone else I knew," Rose said.

"I've always believed it's best to keep quiet about things," Ruth said. "It's what I was taught. You don't tell your problems or the intimate details of your life to anyone. You deal with things yourself."

"I would have lived you to be more open with me," Rose said. "When I was growing up you were always so far away. I never felt like I knew you, and as for Papa, well, he was more like a ghost I saw occasionally. When we were first married," she went on, "Jack told me stories about his family, and I was jealous of him. His life sounded so nice. I wanted our children to have the same things."

"He loves you very much."

Rose smiled. "I'm lucky. I don't know what I would have done without him. He made me want to live again. He made me feel like I could do anything."

"I don't understand this life," Ruth said. "The way you want to live. It's so uncertain."

"Nothing's certain. Didn't the past decade make that clear to all of us? You raised me to believe I would always be taken care of; all I had to do was be pretty and well-mannered, but all that ended when Papa died, didn't it?" Rose said.

"But if you had listened to me, and—"

"Let's not go into that. There's no part of that situation that wasn't a mistake."

"Don't you ever wonder what would have happened?" Ruth asked. "Don't you miss the life you had?"

"No," Rose said, shaking her head. "I knew how my life would go, and the prospect was enough to send me over the railing of a ship. There are things I do miss, though, like the stability, or the illusion of it, rather. I'd like to be able to tell my children they can have the whole world if you want it, but I'd rather they're happy and for them to know they're loved. I'd rather have Jack, at the beginning, when we had nothing, absolutely nothing, then anyone else."

"He certainly loves you," Ruth said, sighing.

…..

Days became weeks, and the winter thawed into spring. The twins spent more time outside, and Jack continued doing most of his work from home. Ruth tried to help with Sue, but as Rose predicted, caring for a newborn was beyond her. She focused on the twins and keeping the house in order instead, revealing talents no-one, not even Ruth herself, had known she had. Gradually, the children grew to like her more and more, thought she never became comfortable showing affection openly. Being civil—and sometimes even cordial—to Jack was almost too much at times.

Rose tried to get closer to her, but their talks made Ruth uncomfortable. Compared to what she shared with Jack, Rose was reserved with her mother, but it was still too much. Finding the right balance was difficult, and it was a few months before they got it right. When Rose came downstairs one morning, singing, her cheeks flushed with pleasure, Ruth didn't know what to say. She couldn't look at Jack when he appeared a few minutes later, wearing a similar expression. The way they carried on baffled her, but, as she made a bait of reminding herself now, it could be worse. It could also be better, but she tried not to think about that.

The day came when Ruth realized she had to leave. Sue was getting too big to sleep with Jack and Rose, and although they didn't say it, it was clear they wanted more space to be alone. So, she offered to give up her room, intending to go back to Philadelphia, but Jack, to her surprise, disagreed. "Why don't you find a place here?" he suggested. "Stay near us?"

"You wouldn't want that," Ruth said. "You've been counting the days until I leave."

"At first maybe, but not anymore. You haven't been going out of your way to be unpleasant," he replied jokingly. "The kids loves you, and I know Rose'd like you to say."

"Do you really think she would?"

"Can't you tell?" he said.

"I never wanted to lose her, you know," Ruth said. "I only wanted what was best for her."

"I know. I didn't get it at first; I thought you were awful back then, but I understand now. I knew she was miserable," he said. "And I knew I could make her happy. She turned me down at first, thought."

"She did?"

Jack chuckled. "Yeah. It hurt, watching her go. I didn't think I'd ever see her again."

"But she chose you. She chose this life.'

"I know. Don't think I'm not grateful," he said. "I am."

"You aren't good enough for her," she said, not unpleasantly.

"I know," Jack replied. "But I'm trying to be."

…

It was as if the world had come back to life. Rose had forgotten how beautiful a summer day could be. Jack ran around the backyard with Ben and Emily, while she sat on the grass with Sue, who was just beginning to crawl. Rose didn't worry about her getting hurt; the grass was thick and soft, and she never let her get far, though she kept trying to reach Jack and the twins.

"That's enough," Jack said, breathing heavily. "Go get some water." Undaunted, the twins ran inside. He saw down next to Rose. Scooping up Sue, he said, "You were trying to escape, weren't ya?" He lightly tossed her into the air, producing a fit of giggles. He caught Rose's eyes. "I won't drop her," he promised.

"I know. I never worry about that," she said.

"Good."

They ate dinner outside, and when Ruth came over the next day she would shake her head over the story, but there would be affection in the gesture. Their children would grow, and Jack and Rose would love each other more with each passing year. But those days always stuck out for him, when the children were still babies, and the whole world was ahead of them, when the fear of losing Rose was still so fresh, when he finally began trusting the turn his life had taken. Despite his earlier efforts, he had a home now; wherever his family was, that was his home.

The End

 **AN: I hope everyone enjoyed this story!**


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